Humanity’s Requiem
by Dr. Jeckyle
Summary: A voice is heard in the midst of the four beasts, and humanity looks and beholds a pale horse and it's name, it says on him, is "Death", and Hell follows with him.
1. The Noise of Thunder

William, or to his friends, Billy, simply moaned.

But that was understandable giving his sudden introduction with the tanker truck and his Impala. Seeing that he was still able to moan had to be a good sign that he wasn't dead, but with the pounding ache in his head, part of him found the idea of living not so pleasant. Though he wasn't a med-student (To his parent's dismay), he'd seen his share of "ER" to assume the crash had given him a few broken ribs topped off nicely with a mild fracture. Needless to say, the idea of hospital time and that he'd probably caused the accident was enough to regret that he made it to consciousness.

_ My parents are going to kill me._

That brought on a new set of questions to his already injured mind. The first, of coarse, being how the hell did this happen. Billy assumed that it was his fault. Hell, his high-risk insurance literally screamed his conviction. Yet, had this been his fault? Last thing he remembered was driving back from "Dennys" around midnight with Chris—

Oh shit, Chris! He's completely forgotten about him.

Twisting his neck quickly to the side, a feat not easily accomplished at his present predicament, he found the face of his friend. A large bruise was forming on the side of his face, but he was wincing and breathing. Both very good signs. So he and his buddy had made it through the crash. Great, no vehicular homicide today… unless his Impala was able to do more damage to the tanker than he expected.

"Billy?"

His eyes shot back towards Chris, his friend apparently stirring awake. Chris' eyes slowly pulled themselves up, a smirk crossing those lips of his. "They hit us, I'm guessing?"

Billy could do nothing but nod, his eyes closing quickly soon afterwards as the wave of dizziness fell upon him. Once again, the question returned to his head. How'd this happen? He'd been cruising back from "Dennys" That much was a positive. He'd fumbled for a tape? Yeah… "Terry Williams Greatest Hits." Then he went through an intersection the same time a truck—

"It wasn't my fault," He said as he moaned once more, his weight pressing against the door, forcing it open. That's right, the truck was coming from the opposite direction and swerved into his lane! He tried to pull out of it's way but it nailed the back of his car still sending him spinning. Hell, perhaps it was looking up. No vehicular homicide and no points on his license.

"No shit, Sherlock" Chris mumbled as he followed his lead.

Falling from his seat into the grass where his car now rested, he paused for a moment to allow his vision to stop blurring. From the noises coming from the other side of the car, he could only guess Chris was in the process of throwing up his Grande Slam breakfast. Understandable. He must have seen his life flash before his eyes like he did earlier.

Pulling himself to his feet, a hand moving to his head as if it would be an effective way of steadying himself, he began his search for where the hell the son of a bitch that hit him was. At first, he couldn't find the truck. He sure the hell wasn't in the road anywhere near him, but after a few seconds, he spotted the back of the tanker planted into the entrance of one of the aimless stores in Ypsilanti, Michigan. Was it a Tanning Salon?

_Does that really matter?_

Right, he looked back towards Chris he had regained his composure, a bit of bile still resting at the corner of his lips. The guy looked okay, beaten up, but there was something called internal bleeding and, to his knowledge, wasn't pleasant at all.

"What do we do?" Chris asked as he made his way over to Billy, whose eyes were returning to downed truck. What the hell was he supposed to do? He was a frick'n Communication Major. He wasn't used to using complicated problem solving skills. Though, how complicated could this be?

The crash apparently had done a good number of his thought process. What he needed to do was call 911. Simple as that. Turning to face his friend once more, his eyes blurring for only a few second now, he slid his cell-phone from his pocket and tossed it to him. "Call the cops, I'm going to check out the dick who hit us."

"I hate using this cancer boxes," Chris shot back as he began dialing. That brought at least a hint of a smile to his lips as he moved towards the tanker, his head seeming to clear up with each step towards the vehicle. It was a small walk to the truck, and by the time he got there, he had already had what he was planning to say in mind. First he'd call the guy a dick sucker, followed by a quick retort about his failing manhood, finished off nicely with time to allow the man to apologize his ass off.

Climbing over what remained of the wall of the shop, his boots carrying him over the ruble and debris, he moved to the door of the truck. Using the mirror as a way to pull himself up, he peeked through the window only to find the trucker, head laid back against his seat, with a young woman's head bobbing back and forth over his lap.

_Well, that explains that._

Judging by the clothing of the girl, she was a prostitute… and the guy just couldn't wait until he parked. Jesus! Even after hitting them and crashing into a shop, he was still having her finish. Billy was livid at this. He was almost killed by a blowjob! And it wasn't even happening to him! Slamming his fist against the window, his eyes shooting waves of hate towards the too, he began with his set plan of reaming these two out.

"Hey! You son of a bitch! You almost killed me back there!" He yelled, his fist once more slamming against the window. The driver didn't respond at all. He just remained in his position, yet the prostitute stopped. The girl slowly raised her head to meet Billy's eyes, and by that simple action, drained him of the remaining color on his face.

He'd been wrong. Very, very wrong.

This girl wasn't blowing the guy. She was ripping into his stomach! Blood smeared her jaw-line, her eyes seeming to be something almost alien. The side of her cheek was torn open, revealing the row of bloodied teeth that held remains of this man's flesh and intenstines. Sadly, those were her more pleasant features. Both her hands seemed to have skinned, her veins and skeleton fingers digging into the gut of the obviously dead man. Her shirt was ripped open, which presented what remained of her breast. Her stomach had several scratches on it, along with what he could see of her thighs. To Billy, this girl was every nightmare he'd had.

"I'll… come back later?" Billy mumbled as he forced the bile to remain in his stomach. And with those words, another impossibility came to life. The man's eyes opened.

Letting loose a scream that could beat any girl scout's in the entire county, Billy fell away from the door and into a heap of wood and brick as the girl slammed her body through the window. Arms outstretched towards him, her wail seeming more animalistic than human, she attempted to pull the remaining part of her through the shattered glass.

For a fraction of a second, Billy just watched as the remaining shards of glass sunk into the girl's stomach. This neither stopped her or slowed her down. She continued to push and pull herself free as the glass tore down her belly. With another unearthly scream, the trucker now joined her, his eyes locked onto Billy's.

_Run…. Run Billy… Run Damn'it! Why aren't you running! RUN! _

Finally finding the ability to climb to his feet, he tore away from the truck, leaving what ever the hell those things were behind him. Cutting the distance from the store to his car in an almost impossible time, he slammed right into Chris, who was looking bewildered at his state.

"We gotta go! Now! I mean now! Get in the fucking car!"

"What the hell are you talking about, the car's a wreck." Chris was now grabbing his shoulders, keeping Billy from running, escaping. Tears burning his eyes as the images of what he saw flashed in his mind, his fear grew stronger with each second he was forced to stand still.

"Dead woman and dead guy but not dead… monsters! Shit! We have to go!"

"What! They're dead? Shit, 911 ain't picking up!"

"No! Dead and alive!" Billy screamed in his face, the scent of urine now becoming present. Hearing yet another shriek, this one not so far behind him, he turned around and found the silhouette of a person racing towards them. Letting out yet another scream, Billy grabbed his friend's hand and began to drag him with him.

"Billy! What the hell is going on! Who is that—" And with that sudden pause, Billy could only assume the girl must have made it into the light. Now Billy wasn't dragging anybody. Chris was actually ahead of him in a matter of second, screaming as loud as he was.

"What the fuck is going on!"

"Just run damn'it!" Billy yelled as they raced down the street of Ypsilanti, Michigan, the creature behind him being joined with the trucker and then another one of them, and then another, and another… After a minute of this, Billy stopped looking back at the growing wave approaching. He just ran, wondering if this was punishment for never attending church.


	2. A White Horse

Angela Craft had never held a gun in her life, let alone fire one. Even as a kid, she wasn't allowed playing with pretend guns because her****mother felt that, since she was a little lady, she'd be more comfortable with playing Barbies. Though Angela never had a problem with this notion (Barbie was damn fun at times), Barbie and Ken weren't going to fly in on "Barbie's Dream Rescue Copter" and save her anytime soon. Yet, here she was pressing herself against the corner of the police cell, holding an empty pistol in her shaking hands.

Fist and body flew against the metal bars of the small, holding cell, the assailant being the officer she'd gotten the pistol from. She'd been in here for a good half an hour, her mind and body too shaken up to even attempt to raise the gun. That creature had been throwing itself against the door the same amount of time with no sign of giving up, though, she was sure that she had all the time she needed. The bars looked sturdy enough.

Lowering her head, jaw quivering in frustration and fear, Angela began to ponder how she'd gotten into this situation.

She'd come to the police office around 1 am after she discovered her car had been broken into. The jerks really didn't take much, just a few of her CDs (Which was somewhat offensive. Apparently, the music they left wasn't good enough to steal) and her schoolbooks. The officer was in the middle of getting her story down on paper when all hell broke loose. Some guy stumbled into the police station, blood caking his jaw line and shirt, the side of his forehead exposing brain tissue. The officer went to help the man, got attacked, and tried to pull a gun on him but was soon tackled to the ground.

The memory brought more tears to Angela's already bloodshot eyes. The cop's gun had rolled to her feet. She could have saved him, she was sure of that, but she just picked up the gun and stared in a stupor at the sight in front of her. When the creature finally took notice of her presence, all Angela could do was mimic the people she saw on television. She raised her gun, closed her eyes, and unloaded bullet after bullet into the direction of the creature. As luck would have it, one of the bullets had got him.

Angela was in the midst of either throwing up or fainting when she noticed the officer was sitting up. Something was different though. She knew there was no way he could be alive with the large chunk missing from his throat, and those eyes of his were something out of a horror movie. She raised the gun to fire, but to her dismay, found it empty. So she ran and fortified herself within the small cell.

_And now look at me, a prisoner in my own prison. _

Resting her head on her knees, the pistol now dangling from her fingers as she tried to think. She didn't deserve this! She'd been a good girl! She believed in God. Never stole, slept around, did drugs, or any of those things. Yeah, she drank, but who didn't in college? She even took a goody-two-shoes major, Library Science! She had so many plans… and now they were all shot to hell.

_Oh, so you're just going to lie down and die? Come on! Think!_

Right, she had to think. She was a smart girl, got good grades. How hard could it be to get out of a cell, around a monster, and to her car?

She almost laughed at that. That wasn't hard; that was impossible. She'd need bullets, she'd need keys, and she'd need courage. And none of those were close by. Well, the key to the cell and the bullets on the creature's belt.

_What? Are you going to flash him, which, in turn, sends him into a catatonic state, giving you enough time to take that time to steal his belt?_

"Yeah?" She mumbled to herself.

_Bravo… Bravo…_

She chuckled once, the humor being lost quickly as the creature slammed against the bars once more. Groaning slightly, fear and adrenaline feeding into her system as she stood to her feet, she tucked the pistol into the front of her jeans as she moved towards the bloodied being. Tears sliding down her cheek with each step towards the monster, the cop's attacks increasing with each step closer to him, Angela stopped just out of arm's reach and took a breath.

"Please… I just want your belt…" she whimpered as she dropped to her knees, a hand slowly reaching towards the creature waist.

The small ring from a bell signaled the opening of the front door.

"Hello?" A frightened, male voice called from around the corner as she could hear footsteps carry the person to his unexpected doom. The creature's attention was now lost on her, his head jerking towards the voice, as an easier meal was now present.

Opening her mouth to warn him, Angela discovered her voice had some how gotten lost within her throat. As she could do was watch, watch in horror. Just like she watched the officer die. Another death would be on her hands!

Rounding the corner was the shape of a large figure, around the size of 6'4… maybe 6'5. The shadows made any other features hidden to Angela, but that didn't matter. At least she knew he was human. Well, for the time being.

The monster howled in a way that sounded delighted and angered. Tearing away from the cell, the monster moving quickly towards the unsuspected male, Angela surprised even herself with her reflexes. Diving towards the bars, her face slamming painfully against them as her hands shot out from the cell and grabbed onto the cuff on the officer's pants. The creature fell flat on it's face, it's voice shrieking with what Angela could only guess as hatred, hatred for her.

"Jesus!" The man yelled as he fell against the back wall, his voice sounding more terrified than before. The abomination looked back towards Angela's hands, than towards the man once more as it decided on whom to attack. The man was closer, so the monster tried in vain to pull his leg free from her grip.

"Kill it!" Angela screamed as the cuff of the pants began to stretch and rip, the being continuing to thrash along the floor, reaching for the man. "Kill it!"

The man didn't need to be told a third time. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that whatever the officer was, he wasn't human. Taking hold of the locker that Angela thought was bolted to the wall, the figure pulled with all his might. With two good tugs, the locker was descending upon the unexpected creature, the bulk of the locker crashing on top of its head. Surprisingly, that didn't kill it. Legs still thrashing back and forth, screams of anguish muffled from under the locker, Angela did all she could. Hold the thing's pant cuff. Looking up towards the man, his face still caked in shadows, she watched as he began jumping on top of the locker over and over again, until the thing's head was caved in.

Breathing heavily, her fingers still frozen in place, Angela felt another wave of tears come on. These were not out of fear, but just frustration. She didn't deserve this! Nobody deserved this. She was a good girl! She did not fucking deserve this!

"Angela?"

Looking up finally, the man finally coming into the light, she found herself looking at a familiar face. She'd seen that face before but from where? After a few seconds of silence, it clicked.

"Adam!" Right, Adam Rzepka. She'd been in Introduction to Theater. Neither of them talked to each other much, but she thought of him as a nice guy. "Adam! Get the keys! It's on his belt!"

Adam nodded and with only a little hesitation, he pulled the key ring from the corpse and moved back to her. After several failed attempts, the right key was found and she was free. Literally throwing herself into Adam, hugging him tightly, she buried her head into his shoulder and began to cry. Adam didn't stop her; she could tell he wanted to do the same. After a few moments of this, Adam was the one that finally broke the silence.

"Am I the only one who shit my pants back there?" He joked.

That brought a forced chuckle from Angela, who nodded as she wiped the tears from her eyes. No he certainly had not. Angela was still shaking, her body feeling as if she'd fallen into a pool of iced tea.

"I was pulling an all-nighter at the library when these things began attacking." Adam spoke as she moved towards the corpse, collecting the remaining clips on his belt. No, she had no idea how to take the used one out and put a fresh one into the gun, but she'd figured it out. "I thought it was a riot, but then it turned too bloody for a riot. Fucking zombies…"

Zombies? Angela tossed a confused look towards him at this. She was surprised she hadn't put two and two together. She was too damn frightened to think of the officer as anything but a monster from the pits of hell that planned on eating her soul, but Adam's name made more sense. These creatures were fucking zombies.

"I came here as soon as I saw all the shit hitting the fan. I assumed the cops would be all over this place." Adam continued as he peeked around the corner, towards the front door. "You think more people would be coming here."

"Maybe they've tried." Angela said as he finally figured out how to load a fresh clip into the gun. "You even fire one of these before?"

Adam shook his head but held his hand out.

"Hey, if you knew how to fire this thing, I'd give it to you, but seeing as you have as much experience as me… well… equal right's are a bitch, eh?" She said, smirking at him. Adam just stared at her for a moment before giving her a smile.

_Good, he isn't a pig._

"Sorry about that, just wouldn't mind having a weapon right about now," he spoke, his arms crossing over his chest. " Mind if we look for one for me?"

Angela gave him a nod and rounded the corner. She'd try the radio, he'd look for weapons. That sounded like a good enough plan for her. Hopefully, she would find out that help was on the way. Yet, something deep within his stomach told her that the idea of help was pushing it.


End file.
